Liar, Liar
by Without-A-Muse
Summary: Brennan has to deal with this little thing called jealousy, a very illogical feeling that she doesn't want to admit to because well...she only deals with the logical, remember?


**A/N:** _So, back for round two. ) This one didn't turn out as I wanted it to, however, I like it anyways. Besides, it means I can use that other idea for another fic, eh? ;) Once again, let me know what you think. My beta is Sydney aka laeliamouse on LiveJournal.  
_

Jealousy. She's never experienced it like this before. Yes, a few times over small, petty things that she now looks back on and wonders why. It's such an illogical emotion that she wonders why people bother.

So, she's trying not to let it affect her, this emotion called jealousy (but it's a lot harder than she thought it would be).

It springs up again when she hears 'her' laughing at the entrance which, of course, she's going to have to pass on her way to Angela and safety. Well, Angela and emotions do not equal safety; however, today it would be better than hearing her own thoughts ricocheting off her skull.

"Anything for us this morning Booth?" she asks as she walks by him and...her. ('Her' name is Dianne; however, that's getting a little too friendly for her taste.)

"And a good morning to you too, Bones," he replies, raising his eyebrows when 'Dianne' isn't looking.

She pretends not to notice and finishes buttoning the blue coat she sports every day. (She knows it brings out her eyes.) She straightens it out and gives him a tight smile, lets him know, "Hodgins found something, you might want to hurry," before sweeping (yes, sweeping) off to both his confusion and anger.

He corners her in her office as she's hanging up the blue jacket and grabbing her bag, and the door crashes closed behind him, but she was expecting that.

"What the hell was that Bones?" he asks her back, "Huh? What the hell was that?"

She straightens up and spits out, "I did hear you the first time you know. I'm socially handicapped, not deaf."

This makes his jaw clench (because he knows something is wrong) and his eyes start waging war with hers, their case is forgotten.

"What has gotten into you?" he finally asks, his voice low, even, and it scares her. "For the past what? three weeks now, you've barely talked to me, not even about a case, we haven't had pie, and you don't pick up when I call."

She shrugs (but inside she knows he's right), "I didn't know I was obligated to do those things," she tells him evenly, her eyes cold so he can't tell she's holding back tears.

A second passes. Then another three. Finally, he nods and makes his way to the door, and suddenly she wants to call him back and tell him what's wrong. She almost does, but then again, she's never been really good at this 'sharing of feelings' thing.

Another two weeks have passed and Booth's coming in slightly later each morning (and Angela has now learned that to talk about her rating scale of a good date 'early to work: bad date, on time: good date, late to work: well, she just winks' gets her an odd, slightly hurt look from Brennan).

Angela tries to ask her what's wrong but doesn't get past the, "Sweetie, I...". Instead, she's stopped by a question (or usually that strange look).

(However, afterwards, she hears Angela whispering to Hodgins about "sexual tension", "needs to date", and (that word again), "jealousy")

Two months and Booth's telling her that Parker's wondering what happened to 'Dr. Bones' (and so is he). This question throws her off for a moment and he's watching her.

She can't stop the word forming on her lips, then it slips past, "Why?"

Confusion covers his face and he asks, "Why what?"

"Why does he want to know 'what happened to me'?" she asks, trying to stuff any hope back into her trusty box where it won't be able to get out.

This second question seems to confuse him more than the first and he opens and closes his mouth a few times before giving up. The truck is silent as he parks and sits for a moment.

The silence gets heavy, so she finally asks, "What?"

"I'm just trying to understand something."

"Like what?"

"Like why it surprises you that Parker wants to know where you've been. He isn't the only one. I have been too," he tells her, finally looking her way.

She has to turn away and shrugs, "I don't know. I'm just not a...kid person. I didn't think he really knew who I was. And I've been at the same place I am every day," she tells the window.

Booth is catching on and he shakes his head, smiling to himself, "Bones, are you jealous of Dianne?"

Her neck snaps as her eyes look at his, "What has that got to do with anything?" she asks, but sighs when he just looks at her, "Why would I be jealous of Dianne?" Inside, she's wondering how he's figured it out, how she let anything slip. She doesn't do things like that. She's always in control of her emotions, of what she gives to people, of what she allows them to see.

"I don't know why you would be jealous of her, but ever since I started seeing her, you've been either too busy with work, or too tired, or having some oddly well timed new found life that I'm not involved in," he tells her (and now he's wondering why his voice is cracking, why it sounds like he's a jealous boyfriend).

"Well, maybe if you got to work on time, you would see me more," she tells him, needing something to say so he can't suspect her of having any feelings she doesn't want to admit to her own mind.

This makes his mind stumble for a moment, "If I got to work on time...what? I'm barely late!" he tells her, his eyebrows meshing in the middle of his forehead, and all of a sudden she has this strange urge to smooth it out with her fingertips.

She shrugs, flustered (knowing she's now let something slip) and rattles off what Angela has pounded into her head, "Well, depending on when you get to work, it determines how well a date has gone," she says, babbling, yet trying to stay composed, "If you're early, you had a bad date. On time, it was good, and," here her voice is uncertain because her mind doesn't want to admit anything.

Booth prompts her, "And if you're late?"

She licks her lips (and he finds himself watching), "And if you're late, you had a...well...you had a fantastic date," she says, her voice too low.

Now, she's home and wondering what happened today, butterflies still fluttering around in her stomach as she imagines his face. She shakes her head, this isn't rational, and she only deals with the rational.

She's at work early the next morning, and just shakes her head when Angela asks why (answer: the butterflies kept her up. Then she started thinking about other things. Like psychology. Like, the meaning behind him and constantly asking her to eat pie).

And then there's he is, and she's looking at the clock and she knows something's wrong, even though he's got his best fake smile, the one he pulls out when he really does not want to talk anything except a case.. She finds him in his office and asks him what's wrong, which earns her a look of surprise.

"What?"

He smiles, a little, "I didn't think you noticed anything about living people," he tells her, not looking at her; instead, it's some far off space she knows is not the wall.

"Why would you say something like that?" she asks, hurt welling up in the middle of her stomach (it's never hurt her like this before).

He just shakes his head and gets up, walks past her and to the door.

Again, this irrational feeling of wanting to call him back sweeps over her, and, almost as if he's heard her unvoiced call, he turns around, takes four steps, and they've crossed that line.

It's much too long later, and she's never noticed the stars shining like this before.

"What's going to happen tomorrow?" she breathes against his neck.

His lips covering hers is the only answer she needs.


End file.
